Fairy Tale
by Vivious Circle
Summary: When a certain young elven diviner falls into the clutches mind flayer's psionic powers it's up to him to rescue her. As always.


**"Fairy Tale" **

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

He stretched his fingers, trying to concentrate. The surroundings were relatively quiet – all the illithids from the long forgotten tunnel of the Athkatlan severs were already dead, along with their favorite pets, umber hulks, and with small exception of their miserable party the hideout was now empty. The splashing of the dirty water and other sounds of the sewers didn't filter through dirty walls, covered with characteristic spiral-shaped ornaments that slowly transformed one more blind alley of the foul underground maze into a lair of brain-eating monsters spying on the city.

It's not that they knew where they were going. Once again 'the winds of adventure' lead them to some forgotten and deadly hole in the face of Faerun, 'full of risks and treasures', as she would say. Hopeless.

No, it wasn't the noise that made it impossible for him to focus fully. It was everybody staring at him.

"You said you can help her!" Jaheira lost her patience, when once again he pulled back his hand with a sigh.

"It will take some time. I will inform you when I finish." Xan sighed again when the druidess walked away, and turned his eyes back at the sun elf lying on a bedroll before him. She had an expressionless face and an empty stare of a mind-flayer's victim. A psionic attack combined with her innate talent for divination put her in this state, some sort of trance, making her stuck in some moment of future or past inside her mind, hopefully one of her memories he could reach. As Minsc proclaimed loudly, she was like a princess waiting for a prince's kiss to wake up, only that instead of kiss she needed an advanced enchantment that would help her shake off the psionically induced sleep.

And instead of a prince she had him.

Why was it always up to him to get her out of the trouble she got into every time she was given a chance? Xan sighed.

After making sure he was focused enough and no outside influence, namely the rest of his companions, would ruin it, the enchanter put his palm on the sleeping woman's forehead and chanted, accenting every syllable with utmost care. Then he gently took her face in his both hands and lifted it only slightly. Her glassy eyes didn't move an inch.

He immersed himself in her memories, he could describe it only like that. It was like walking into a library, where every book held a moment of her past. The spell enabled him to look through what she remembered, searching for her trapped consciousness. He could only hope she wouldn't murder him for seeing something he shouldn't once she woke up.

They were there – most distinctive black spots, like that in a burned fabric, holes in her memory she mentioned she had after being imprisoned in mad mage's dungeon, and dark corners full of shadows – things she did remember from the time of her imprisonment. The elf tried to avoid those parts, he wasn't a sadistic monster enjoy seeing someone, especially her suffering, and she never mentioned, even vaguely, anything about what she suffered, only numerous scars serving as a constant reminder of what she went through. She would never forgive him if he took advantage of her weakness to sate empty curiosity. Besides, it was unlikely that she was locked in one of such moments. Psionic illusions usually held their victims in false illusions of past happiness. It wasn't that damaging, but much harder to shake off.

Xan sighed and tried to loosen up his fingers. Entering other's mind like that was like looking through a powerful magnifying glass – the vision was shaking and blurring constantly and it took all his concentration to stabilize it.

Further into the past… The further he went the more happy emotions appeared in her past. With some measure of embarrassment he watched himself, running around the camp with his hair and robes dyed in eye-piercing pink, trying to get his hands on Imoen, the dexterous rogue escaping easily. Daria was also there, almost laughing her head off, but it was just a memory. He moved further.

He searched carefully going earlier and earlier, once again witnessing all the dangers they faced while trying to stop a war before Baldur's Gate and Amn. It was pure luck that they managed to survive that ordeal, luck that undoubtedly run out by now.

The memory of the first time they met picked Xan's attention. It was sharp, a lot sharper than the others, what meant that Daria remembered it quite well. He watched as his past self was getting up from the dirt of almost bottomless Nashkel mine, unknowingly getting himself into this mess, this… adventure, which lasted to the current day and would probably only end with his death. He spent a silent moment wondering would it be better if he remained where he was back then, but came to no definite conclusion. She wasn't there though. He moved along.

Going much further without repeating the verses of the enchantment wouldn't be possible, so once he felt her presence he clutched to it immediately, locating the correct place. It was the only such spell he had prepared for this day and he'd rather not leave her in such state for the night he needed to memorize a new one, even though it wasn't life-threatening. He hastily entered the flash that held her.

Xan found himself standing on the edge of thin birch forest, with fresh green grass under his boots whispering of the end of spring. He squinted looking up at the Sun in its summit, shining lazily through the leaves of the highest branches of trees. Leaves were so green, so fresh, that made him unconsciously recall Evereska, with beautiful gardens of his homeland giving birth to most vivid of colors, the trees singing along with the birds when he would stop to listen for a moment. And there was a song here as well.

The sound of distant humming lead him to glade separated with only few single birches from the road, leading west from the direction of the forest and ending only close before the cliffs, washed up by the sea. A distant silhouette of a stone stronghold surrounded with solid wall could be seen where the road ended. Candlekeep, the safe home of a scholar, loomed on the horizon.

The source of the melodious humming was on a glade he reached however. A young elven girl, or maybe a woman, only crossing her first century of life, was sitting in the middle of the clearing, on a colorful blanket placed directly on the grass. She was smearing butter on a piece of bread she drew from a fine made basket, and then covered it with cheese and cucumber slices, hidden deeper in her treasure trove. Her voice was but a quiet hum of a melody unknown to him, but composed with peacefulness of the glade, the songs of the birds and the rustle of the leaves moved by the tender breeze coming from the sea, created a mesmerizing idyll.

The elven girl put another ready sandwich on a plate on her blanket, putting some herbs she must have gathered in the forest on top, from a small sack she had on her lap. She didn't notice him yet, as he watched her from the line of trees, fully absorbed by her simple task, only once and then raising her head to look at the road leading back to her home, probably waiting for someone to come. Xan watched her profile, couldn't quite believe how different she looked without her scars, both physical and emotional, on her face. This 'her' he didn't know, without the sadness of remembering the lost ones, without the mark of suffering in the madman's dungeon, without the pain always resident in her eyes, and without the knowledge of her true nature, the taint of her soul. In this memory everybody she knew was cheerful and safe. No surprise she didn't want to leave those happiest moments.

She noticed him at last, when her gaze wandered to look at the rich greens of the woods, and her humming stopped. Her eyes widened, full of naive childish innocence. Her gaze slipped through his pointy ears and her eyes became even wider when she noticed the Moonblade by his belt, one of the legendary elven swords he knew she read so much about. She didn't recognize him, she didn't _know_ him yet, but it was her, not a memory. She could see him.

"Y-you are an elf?" she actually asked. It wasn't like the diviner he knew, the girl from that time couldn't cast a single divination yet. Daria he knew has long since become quiet and withdrawn, thinking twice before asking a silly question.

"I'm sorry, of course you are" she corrected herself with a blush. "I only once saw an elf, other than me. In Winthrop's Inn, few years ago…" The crimson on her face deepened, when she realized he probably has no idea what she's talking about. "I'm Daria. Would you like a sandwich?"

She probably felt uncertain and awkward, trying to make a good impression. She had not yet crashed with harsh reality, hidden in her secluded keep, eternally safe. Instead she invited a complete stranger for her picnic, only because he was an elf. But she was curious. She never saw an elf before.

"My name is Xan." He studied her face for any sign of recognition, but there were none. She wouldn't wake by herself, she didn't want to.

He took a sit before her on a blanket when invited, looking at her intensely. She appeared to be startled by the strength of this gaze.

"Daria, hiding here is not a way. I know how you feel, I know it is hard, and it probably will not lead us far, but… We all have our duties. You cannot lock yourself away from the world." He didn't convince even himself.

She smiled at him with a carefree and innocent smile and something twisted painfully in his chest.

"Please have a sandwich" she handed him a thick slice of bread, just as if she didn't hear what he said a second ago. "My father and sister are going to come soon, but they wouldn't mind company."

The elf glanced at the sandwich. It's been a while since he had something decent in his mouth, not an adventurer's best friend dry rusk, but a fresh crispy bread, straight from a oven. And even though it was only a memory, even though it would be only a taste of a sandwich, not a real one… it didn't really matter, did it?

He took the sandwich.

"My sister and father aren't elves" Daria explained as he ate. "I was adopted, but my foster-father loves me a lot, so I'm lucky. He's a powerful mage, he even knows Khelben Arunsun. He taught me some runes, but I'm not very good at it" she ended with shame.

Her cheeks pinked a little when she noticed him smiling lightly at her. Xan didn't even realize he was smiling.

"Please, take another one." The girl moved the plate full of ready sandwiches before him. Some had hearts made from dried herbs. "You look tired… You came from afar?"

"Yes" he answered without even knowing when. He took another sandwich. Maybe they weren't real, but they tasted just as good as the real thing.

The last year was a constant journey. The last place where he stayed longer than few nights was the Mulahey's stinky dungeon and it was neither regenerative nor comfortable. Then every night somewhere else, a new inn or a simple shack, or a tent in the middle of the woods, looking at the night's sky through the holes in the fabric. Every day filled with danger, fighting for their lives almost at every step. Even after mixing with the crowd of Baldur's Gate they had to change the inn where they'd for the night every day, in fear of assassins coming to take the life of the little innocent creature sitting before him.

And then after miraculously saving the Sword Cost from a war – a stay in the palace for a week, was it? – and then another journey, back to Evereska. And another short stay, before being sent on another, even more hopeless task.

She looked at him and said he was tired. He was. His robe knew better days and he was much thinner than most elves, but Daria he knew looked much more worn and exhausted. But here, in her memory… In a flowery dress and face glowing with happiness and health… With smile neither wistful nor sad like her future smiles…

Compared to her he was tired. That, and he couldn't take his eyes of her.

"Tell me." Daria moved closer and put her hand on his. Just like the night in Nashkel, the first night he spent in the party, so long ago…

Before he knew he told her everything, starting from resignation to fate that awaited him after his inevitable death, the same fate as his father's. He told her how he missed his homeland and how he fears about its safety, how he separated himself from his People and how he was liked to them. The sun began to set and he was still talking in an unstoppable flood of words that had to get free one day and did, now.

And it didn't matter that he already told her most of this, though she didn't remember, during long night watches they spent studying their spells that were meant to protect her from Sarevok's assassins. Then she didn't understand, soothing him with her blind compassion. Now she looked at him with the eyes of someone who knew how it was to be tired of the road, who remembered how heavy the existence could be and who still bore scars of the moments where the only thing left to do was to pray for a quick death. Hidden behind the flowery gown and the sandwiches was the woman he knew and who understood him.

She blinked and he saw Daria that entered the sewers of Athkatla with him and encountered mind flayers on some nonsensical quest of finding a gong, smiling at him wistfully, with her eyes always sad.

"You suffered so much…" she said, once again under the mask that slipped for a moment. "I wish I could somehow take away your burdens…" She looked deep into his eyes. Two tears gleamed on her face.

He raised his hand to wipe the tear away and suddenly their faces were only a breath away. Two big dark violet eyes were looking at him with both shyness and yearning from her face, lit by the last rays of this day. They froze in an uncomfortable impasse between resisting and giving up.

'It must be the only moment I her life when she would have fallen in love with me.' The though ran through Xan's mind and he moved forward, lead by the sweet taste of her lips, the taste of their kiss, the smell of…

…sewers. He came round on the cold stone ground, looking at the unmistakable illithid patterns on the ceiling. The ever-present stench of dead squids gave him another hint about where he was.

"Why is it that I always have to save you?" A voice said, seeing he was waking up. He looked to his side and saw Daria sitting next to his bedroll, smiling. The smile didn't reach her tired eyes.

Xan groaned, already suspecting what happened.

"You walked just in the middle of enchantment that held me" the sun elf explained, confirming his suspicions. "This is really going to scar your reputation as a specialist. What kind of enchanter wouldn't notice a trap like that?"

"One that had to fight through bands of mind flayers all day." Xan muttered, bitterly disappointed with himself. He almost wished he didn't wake up. Daria helped him up and began to pack the bedroll.

"Next time just wait for me to shake off the spell myself. This way I won't end up having to wake up us both." She nodded at Jaheira, who rounded up the rest of their group with one glare.

"By the way, how did _you_ wake up?" Xan asked, though he really didn't want to hear how easy it was. He didn't hear her mock him though. Instead she answered strangely quiet out of sudden.

"Let's just say…" A particulary dark shade of red bloomed on Daria's cheeks. "…that my dream crossed the line of what I could ever believe would happen."


End file.
